Certain cliches in movies make my eyes roll up to the point I’m afraid they’ll stick there:

“Editor’s note: Unfortunately...”

Well that was way, way too droll....  COTD.

Course I know what the Dodge fanatics would love to see under the hood: a 440 big block. Combine that sweet low burble of the monster V8 with the gobs of torque for ripping the Dodges off the line...those Char/Challen/gers would sell out in 15 minutes. Yes, engine certification means it won’t happen, but compared to…

I’ll go with the car from 1977's  The Car:

Yes, it’s called “acting”--taking on a role--such a jewish person.

“She then lost the baby due to the surgery...”

“—the third woman in line to be the president—”

So between the bullshit over non-existent low-boom SSTs, non-existent engines, fuel formulation, fuel costs and consumption, environmental impact and wildly optimistic build schedules; this is all fantasy talk, right?

How to scope out the wrenching job—making a mental list of the tools/materials/sweat equity it’ll take to complete and realize one of three things:

Hypocrites who don’t abide by their codified fairy tale regs...what else is new?

Yup, you vote for Repub-nazis, then you get fascist decisions.  Duh.

I can’t help seeing how the show would be super-hilarious if Jay Arondekar is killed off.  So he has to deal with the frustrations of his former wife dealing with being newly single.

$110K for a meh-looking convertible...effing hell.

A sexually confused man buys the Miss Universe contest...whatever.  Who still watches these parades anyway?

“ ...it basically comes down to the belief that reaching Level 4 autonomy will cost too much to be worth continued investment.”

I still can’t get over the Swinger Last Calls. “Hey guys! Let’s put out a special edition based on the Dodge Dart—the secretary’s car—we’ll go for the anti-macho appeal with those cars shot with Snot Green paint!” If Dodge builds per the orders placed, I expect ten cars each of the Challenger and Charger Swingers…

And sometimes aesthetics are neck-and-neck with performance—my Charger:

It’s yellow, so no.

Great. Yesterday I rail against that clunker diesel Benz in the NPOND feature—how no civilian needs a soot-spewing diesel nowadays—and here Ford has as whopper diesel that suspiciously comes in a truck meant for men’s dick-measuring contests. I suppose it could be more pathetic, but I’m not sure how.